Pierced (Lucian & Lia #1)(5)
Holy shit, he’s beautiful. Rose would die because he has the f*ck-me style of tousled hair she just loves on men. His hair is as black as the night surrounding us and looks as if he-or someone else-has run their hands through it several times. His suit is obviously expensive and drapes perfectly over his muscular body; my heartbeat escalates as I imagine what that suit must be covering. He’s tall, powerful, and looks like something straight out of a wet dream. I’ve given myself countless orgasms picturing a man like him.
I can only blame my next action on Nyquil intoxication. Thinking only of sharing the visual pleasure of this male God with my friend, I grab my cell phone and snap his picture. When he turns to speak with his driver, I giggle as I snap another of his ass. I stand oblivious as I start texting the pictures to Rose. When I finish, I look up, still smiling to find the male God in question standing directly in front of me, a smirk pulling at the corners of his kissable mouth. “Did you get what you needed, Miss…?”
Before I think better of it, I murmur, “Adams.”
“Lia Adams?” he asks.
Surprised, I can only stare at him for a moment. “Um…yeah. How did you know?”
He takes my arm and pulls me to the side. “I’m Lucian Quinn; I believe you are here for me?”
“No way! You’re a god!” I slap my hand over my mouth in horror. Did I actually just say that aloud?
He grins, obviously highly entertained by my slip of the tongue. “Why, thank you, Miss Adams; that is very flattering. Is there any particular reason that has led you to that conclusion?”
Mortified, I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out those sexy lips I’m sure are still smirking at me. “I…ur, sorry about that. You’re just so beautiful.” Fuck, someone shut me up! When the silence continues, I open my eyes and stick out a hand, determined to change the subject. “Hi, I’m Lia Adams, your date for the evening.”
He leaves my hand hanging in the air for a moment longer before firmly grasping it between his. Heat races through my body at his touch; I can’t remember ever having this kind of instant response to a man before. “Lucian Quinn and it is certainly a pleasure to meet you, Miss Adams.” He continues to hold onto my hand until I finally tug it away. He studies me intently for what seems like minutes, but is probably mere seconds. To be the sole focus of that kind of intensity is disarming, at best. Was it my imagination or does he almost look shocked? Crap, do I look that bad tonight? No doubt, the answer to that question is a resounding yes.
Squaring my shoulders, I ask in my most professional voice, “Is there anything I need to know before we go inside?”
He seems to shake off whatever thoughts had taken over his mind. Amusement lurks in his eyes as if he knows I’m grappling for composure. “I don’t believe so. I assume you understand that to anyone else, you are my date for the evening and not a paid escort. I would like to keep that bit of information private.”
“Of course,” I reply. “I’ll just follow your lead.” He takes my hand and settles it into the crook of his arm. He steers us effortlessly through the crowded lobby and to the hostess stand.
A perky blonde with fake breasts beams as if she has just been handed her Christmas and birthday present at once. “Mr. Quinn, how great to see you again!”
“Good evening, Mindy. How have you been?”
As Mindy and Lucian continue to converse, I fight the urge to stick my finger down my throat and gag dramatically. It’s like watching a real-life Barbie and Ken meeting play out. Lucian seems to know he is giving Mindy the thrill of a lifetime by talking to her longer than required. I wouldn’t be surprised to see phone numbers exchanging hands. I want to poke him in the ribs and whisper that he can do better, but it’s none of my business; I am just the hired help for the evening. When Lucian puts his hand in the small of my back in an attempt to move me forward, I stumble before catching myself. A face-plant right in front of Barbie and Ken would be a freaking nightmare.
He leads me toward a quiet corner of the restaurant where several other couples are seated. The men rise to their feet as Lucian pulls a chair out for me. I am happy to sit by an older couple. For some reason, everyone over the age of fifty seems to love me. Other than Rose and a few other classmates, I rarely spend time with people my own age; I learned early on that people can be petty and mean. Debra always tells me that I have an old soul.
Lucian seats himself beside me and begins making the introductions. The couple to our right is Margaret and Howard Sterling, and as I had hoped, they greet me with warm smiles. I can barely remember the rest of the names with the exception of the woman on Lucian’s other side, Monique Chandler. She has long, dark hair and is wearing a form-fitting, emerald green sleeveless dress. She is attractive, but to me, it’s all artificial…almost hard. The smile that she greets me with is calculating and cold. Lucian is polite but doesn’t seem overjoyed to be sitting next to her. I am just thankful I will likely never see these people again after tonight; I have a few regulars I have accompanied more than once, but venues change each time and, generally, so do the people.
After everyone has placed their drink orders, Monique leans around Lucian and asks, “So Lucy, how do you know Lucian?”
Before I can answer, Lucian says, “It’s Lia, and we met through mutual friends.”
I am grateful for his quick response. I am even happier when the server places the red wine Lucian ordered in front of me; liquid courage is just what I need.